


Mr. Jellybean

by CuddlyHawk



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bottom Morty Smith, M/M, Nothing too explicit, but dont read if it will bother you, morty angst, morty whump, mr jellybean rapes morty, rick isn't a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyHawk/pseuds/CuddlyHawk
Summary: Meeseeks and Destroy, but with a twist on the Mr. Jellybean scene.





	Mr. Jellybean

“Your adventure’s in a spiral, for real man, time to pull out.” Rick narrows his eyes and crosses his arms at his grandson, a frown creasing his brow. This strange world and its strange people were off-putting to say the least. But Rick would never admit that he was enjoying the quaint adventure Morty came up with for them.

 

“You keep heckling my adventure, Rick!” Morty accuses, glaring across the tavern table at his grandpa. “You know why?”

 

Rick scoffs. “Uh, because it’s _lame?_ ”

 

“It’s because you’re _petty_ ,” Morty spits. “You know? H-H-How many times did I have to follow you into some…nonsensical bullcrap?” He makes a fist and slams it on the table in a fit of frustration. Rick stiffens and keeps a hard glare. “I _always_ roll with the punches, Rick. Why can’t you?”

 

Morty looks down and pushes himself to his feet. “Look, I gotta take a leak. And when I come back, i-if you haven’t learned how to lighten up, don’t be here.” Fuming, he storms off, leaving Rick and a quiet Slippery Stair in the bitter silence. Rick simply rolls his eyes once Morty is out of earshot.

 

“Whatever,” he groans to himself, resting his chin on his hand.

 

*****

 

Having calmed down after his little tirade, Morty sighs and finishes his business before approaching the sinks in the bathroom. Another creature, light blue and bean-shaped is washing his hands as well. When Morty turns on the faucet and begins to wash his hands, the blue bean turns to him with a sweet smile.

 

“How are you today? I’m Mr. Jellybean!” His tone is kind, and he smiles at the young teen.

 

Morty, encouraged by the bean's kind attitude, and feeling excited about his adventure again, excitedly answers, “Hi Mr. Jellybean! I’m Morty. My grandpa and I are on an adventure!”

 

“Nice!” Mr. Jellybean exclaims eagerly, “Is it a fun adventure?”

 

“I hope so,” Morty’s smile falters. “But I’m starting to get nervous that maybe it’s gone a little too far off the rails.”

 

Mr. Jellybean chuckles. “Isn’t that what adventures do?” He asks with a playful smirk.

 

Morty’s smile slowly comes back. “Hey, y-you know what? You’re right!” He grabs a towel and dries his hands before looking confidently at himself in the mirror. “Everything’s going fine! I just gotta… _relax_ and…go with the flow!” He smiles again at his confidence, and his eyes flick up to the reflection of Mr. Jellybean behind him.

 

“Yeah…” the jellybean says quietly, resting his hands on Morty’s shoulders.

 

Morty doesn’t say anything, but after a couple seconds, Mr. Jellybean hasn’t removed his hands, and is instead starting to lightly massage Morty’s slender shoulders. The small teen shifts uncomfortably and wriggles out of his grasp, heading towards the door. “Uhh…uh o-okay, um, b-bye…” Morty stutters, keeping an eye over his shoulder at the jellybean.

 

But instead of letting him go, Mr. Jellybean has other plans. He steps forward quickly and wraps his arms around Morty’s torso. “Ah-ahh, no. Stay! ‘Go with the flow’.” He mocks with an icy tone. A sick smile is beginning to spread over his face and his hands rub small circles on Morty’s chest.

 

Morty squirms and pushes against the larger creature. “Stop, y-y-y-you’re making me really uncomfortable!” Mr. Jellybean doesn’t appreciate Morty’s dismissal of his advances. With a snarl, his face changes; a malicious scowl replaces the once-genial expression, and he grabs Morty by the arm roughly and manhandles him to push him against the sinks, viciously shoving the side of his head down into the sink and pinning his arm up against his lower back in an iron grip. Morty wriggles and squirms, grunting and making small, fearful noises as he struggles to free himself.

 

“Stop fighting me!” Mr. Jellybean lowers his face just above Morty’s and his voice drops into a seductive purr. “Just let this happen.”

 

Now understanding the extent of his danger, Morty feels a rush of adrenaline and fear pound in his ears. He has to get away! This is bad, this is really, really bad! He pushes back. “ _Get offa me-e!!_ ” His voice squeaks and doesn’t have the intent that he wanted, even as Mr. Jellybean shoves his head even harder into the sink.

 

*****

 

Meanwhile, out in the rest of the tavern, Rick has somehow managed to get himself on stage to sing an off-key, karaoke version of “Sweet Home Alabama!” Obviously getting drunk, he sways dangerously as he belts out the notes loudly to the blaring music, oblivious to his grandson’s danger. “Whooo!”

 

*****

 

The music from Rick’s song can be heard in the bathroom, muffled and drowned out by Morty’s cries and Mr. Jellybean’s grunts as he struggles to restrain the teen.

 

He manages to get Morty into a bathroom stall, dragging and shoving him by an arm. He’s stronger than Morty, and with a loud huff, lifts and throws Morty against the filthy, open-lidded toilet. Morty winces. He’s terrified, fearful of what’s going to happen. He needs to escape. He NEEDS to. Even though he knows it’s futile, he begins begging. But the jellybean doesn’t seem to hear, or more likely, he just doesn’t care. As Morty tries to scramble to his feet and dart by him, Mr. Jellybean reaches out and snags him, throwing him back into the stall. Morty feels like a cornered animal, trapped and defenseless. What exists in a public bathroom that he could possibly use to defend himself? The toilet paper??

 

“Noo! Stop!” Morty’s breaths come quicker and his eyes are huge, pupils as small as pinpoints. “Please!!”

 

Mr. Jellybean laughs. It’s a sick, wet sound. It’s dirty to Morty’s ears. Dirty and very intimidating. He attempts to block it out and shouts loudly, trying to muster as much strength as he can to push the large man away. But it has no effect. In fact, it seems to be egging the pedophile on. “Stop being such a fucking tease, you sweet little twat!” He growls wetly, bracing both hands on Morty’s chest and pushing him back against the toilet lever, giving Morty no way to gain any force against his advances. Leaning back, spine pressing painfully into the metal rod, a large, pedophilic jellybean digging his knee between Morty’s thighs… It was all Morty could do to yell and struggle fruitlessly.

 

“No! NO!!” Mr. Jellybean reaches up and digs his fingers deep into Morty’s hair, shoving him down so he’s forced to sit in the open toilet. With Mr. Jellybean’s knee in the way, Morty’s legs are split open with the action, and he turns away, squeezing his eyes shut and crying out loudly. “N-NOOOO!!”

 

Mr. Jellybean sticks out his tongue and runs it up Morty’s cheek, leaving a trail of green slime in its wake. Sweat begins to bead on Morty’s forehead and he’s dangerously close to hyperventilating. Both hands are pushing as hard as they can against Mr. Jellybean’s middle, but it doesn’t have any effect. Mr. Jellybean is just too strong, and he has the leverage to bear down on Morty, pin him and keep him still. “P-Please!!” Morty cries, shaking his head to try to worm free from Mr. Jellybean’s grip on his hair.

 

“Stoppit,” Mr. Jellybean grunts, shoving himself flush against Morty’s body, lifting him ever so slightly off the edge of the toilet. Morty’s cries and pleads fall on deaf ears as Mr. Jellybean extends his tongue once more to lap up the delicious droplets of sweat trickling down Morty’s temple.

 

“Haah, HAAH,” the child’s breaths are loud and labored. His muscles are straining to try to push Mr. Jellybean away, but he can feel his arms shaking in fear, and his voice doesn’t seem to be working. All he can manage are squeaks and cries between loud breaths. Mr. Jellybean grips Morty’s hair tightly to keep him from escaping, and lowers his other hand to cup and rub at Morty’s crotch.

 

Morty’s eyes are huge. He barely spares a glance downward, afraid of what he would see. His eyes stay locked on Mr. Jellybean’s deathly white stare, and as fear and shame flicker through Morty’s eyes, lust and desire fill Mr. Jellybean’s. Morty struggles to try to kick Mr. Jellybean away, or to at least close his legs. But Mr. Jellybean isn’t having any of it. After shoving Morty’s thighs down and away from him, he presses closer and lets his hand slowly trail upward, pushing and rubbing up Morty’s stomach until he’s under his shirt and his hand has reached all the way up to Morty’s bare chest.

 

“AHHHH” Morty screams, kicking and struggling in earnest. The shock and awkward tingle of an inappropriate touch has lessened, and all that’s left is a desperate, primal instinct to escape. He rears back a fist and with another terrified shriek, launches the half-aimed fist towards one of those soulless white eyes.

 

But it doesn’t connect. Mr. Jellybean leans back just enough for it to bounce off his cheek. It causes a small bruise, but nothing that will actually stop the bean’s dirty intentions. He turns back to Morty, whose eyes are wild and his struggling has increased tenfold. “You’re gonna regret that, slut,” he spits, pressing his body against Morty’s again and gripping his crotch viciously. Morty freezes again and whimpers painfully, tears budding in his eyes. There’s nothing he can do. Literally, nothing. He tries to make a fist, but everything seems to be going too slow, and yet way too fast to process, all at the same time. He can’t see straight, as though strobe lights are on, altering the image in front of him every split second. Pictures of what he’s trying to see flash in front of his eyes. It’s not fluid, it’s not like he’s really there. It’s as though he’s seeing everything from someone else’s point of view. And he’s terrified.

 

No longer in control of his body, Morty’s whimpers and shrieks dull to a sniveling babbling; pleading and begging Mr. Jellybean to let him go. But Mr. Jellybean doesn’t even respond. He continues his violation, murmuring sick words into Morty’s ear. The traumatized teen can’t hear them clearly now, but he knows that he’ll be haunted by the words forever. Slut. Twat. Bitch. Sweet little cunt. All the while, the licking persists as the hand continues to roam and prod.

 

Morty’s petrified. He clenches his eyes shut tight, not wanting to see anymore. Wishing that he could disappear and that everything was alright. Maybe it’s just a nightmare. Maybe if he wishes hard enough, it will go away and he’ll wake up. Either way, Morty closes his eyes and through staggered breathing, utters a mantra of “Please…p-please…” to anyone or anything that will listen. Save him. Please. Someone. Anyone. _PLEASE_. He’s sure there is no god, but by now, Morty is praying in his mind for anything to listen to him and save him.

 

Fingers, many many fingers, are poked and prodded in places they don’t belong, dirty words are uttered in now-corrupted ears. Morty can finally start to realize that he’s in shock. That’s why he can’t feel the jellybean’s hands on him anymore. Why he can’t hear anything other than his racing heartbeat and wheezing breathing. Why he can’t see or focus on anything around him.

 

Everything becomes hazy and Morty squeaks one last time before his body tries to shut down. Everything goes very slowly and his vision grays to a dull mass of moving shapes around him as his brain blocks out the world.

 

*****

 

With a finishing, aroused groan, the jellybean finally seems to have enough of his disgusting game. Morty’s cheek is soaked in green slime, and his lower half feels like it’s on fire. Morty’s distorted vision allows him to see a very content-looking Mr. Jellybean in front of him. Half-lidded eyes squint to try to focus better. The blue hand twined in his hair grips harder and then throws the young body to the side. Morty doesn’t have a chance to catch himself and lands roughly on the floor.

 

“Uh…uh…uh…” he grunts quietly, forcing himself to sit up and try to get away one last time. But a large backhand slaps the side of his face, and he crumples back to the floor as bruises instantly begin to form in the shape of knuckles on his cheek. He looks down and realizes for the first time that his pants are nowhere to be found. And his underwear is hanging loosely around one ankle. His shirt is stretched out and dirty, fraying at the hip and wet around the neck. Slowly, realization dawns on the young teen.

 

He’s been violated.

 

He’s been _raped_.

 

“No…” He denies his mind’s chilling conclusion. There’s no way! He didn’t even fight him off! He couldn’t…he was too weak. “No, no, NO!!” His hands reach up and clutch at his sore scalp as he curls into a ball, shaking and trying to disappear. Mr. Jellybean snorts and leans down, kneeling on either side of him and trailing his tongue up Morty’s exposed arm, all the way up to his shoulder, up his neck, and across his cheek before planting a possessive kiss on Morty’s mouth.

 

Morty instantly rejects it, crying out loudly and reaching up to shield himself with his forearm while turning away. Mr. Jellybean pulls away at Morty’s struggling, and Morty gags and spits, trying to get the too-sweet, green goo out of his mouth. He whimpers and can’t look up at his attacker. Mr. Jellybean smirks one last time. “You were delicious, Sweet,” he coos, uncomfortably close to Morty’s ear. “Tight and wet and so, so _delicious_.” He licks his lips loudly, grinding softly against Morty as he kneels around him, and reaches down to stroke a hand up Morty’s chest, to which the young teen bucks and kicks, pushing himself free and against the wall, seemingly trying to squeeze into the space between the wall and the toilet.

 

“N-Nooo,” he moans quietly, shivering in disgust and shame. “No…” Mr. Jellybean stands and slaps Morty’s bare ass before chortling and sauntering out of the bathroom, leaving Morty to wallow in his misery.

 

*****

 

It takes a long time before Morty is able to force himself to get up. Every couple seconds, he expects someone to come walking into the bathroom. Every couple seconds, his mind makes him think that Mr. Jellybean is back for more. But no. No one enters the bathroom. From where he’s laying, pressed tightly against the floor, he can see under the stall walls, and slightly under the bathroom door. He can see shapes and shadows moving just in front of it. Did no one hear his cries? Why did no one come to rescue him? What about Rick—

 

Rick.

 

Morty’s stomach does a nauseating flip and he’s lucky there’s a toilet next to him. Not that he had eaten much, but the stomach acid burns as he vomits desperately into the open pot.

 

Oh god, what will Rick think? What will he do? Most likely he’ll call him a pussy for not fighting back. Or he’ll tease him for being such a virgin and not knowing how to appreciate free sex. Or he’ll just be an ass and pretend like it’s no big deal.

 

Leaning back onto his burning haunches, Morty wipes his mouth on his bruised arm. He swallows painfully and struggles to get to shaky feet. Slowly, very slowly, he pulls his briefs and jeans on, makes his way towards the sinks, and turns on the faucet. The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes. By now, it might have been a half hour ago. In just a half hour, Morty’s entire life was turned upside-down. He knows he’d never forget this, nor will he let himself live it down. He didn’t fight back. He’s weak. Stupid. Twat.

 

Morty shudders and can’t look at himself in the mirror. Instead, he tries to focus on his shaky hands as he cups a handful of water and splashes it on his face. That’s a little better. His hand brushes the green, saliva-slime on his cheek, and his stomach churns again. But instead of vomiting, he’s able to keep it down.

 

Bit by bit, Morty cleans himself up. First the slime on his cheek, then the bruises and marks on his arms are cleaned and held under the cool water until they stop throbbing. He doesn’t even want to think about his lower half, the hot pain he can feel radiating from where he was violated. He shakes his head. He’ll deal with it when he gets home and he can take a proper shower.

 

Finally, Morty peeks at himself in the mirror. So much for the confident Morty he had seen before. He looks like he aged at least five years. Dark bags are settled under his bloodshot eyes, his hair is disheveled, his shirt looks like a mess, and his pupils still haven’t dilated back to normal yet. Still in shock, he figures.

 

_I-I-It’s no big deal_ , he tells himself. _It’s not that big a deal, I’m f-fine_. Morty swallows and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, and can feel the small tremors still wracking his body. _Rick is going to say it’s n-not a big deal. So I won’t make it a big deal. It’s alright. It’s fine_. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and, straightening out his shirt, he slowly shuffles towards the exit, heart in his throat.

 

_I w-won’t tell him what happened_ , Morty promises himself. _I just want to g-go home. I’ll take a shower a-and sleep it off, it’ll be fine. No one has to know… No one has to know how w-w-weak I am_.

 

Morty stands in the doorway of the bathroom and scans the crowd in the tavern, half looking for Mr. Jellybean, and half looking for Rick. Not seeing the creepy blue bean anywhere, he makes his way towards Rick, who seems to be happily engrossed in a game of Poker with some of the other creatures in the tavern. As Morty approaches, Rick looks up.

 

“Oh, hey Morty!” He smiles, then looks down as he offers a sincere apology. “Listen, I-I-I’m really sorry about a-all the stuff I said earlier about your adventure. I-I-I-I’m having a good time Morty! It’s not so bad.” He motions towards the game he just won, and smirks, not catching the way Morty’s tense body shivers ever so slightly, or the way his pale face has beads of chilled sweat slowly tricking down his temples. Morty listens politely to his grandpa, and feels a sudden sense of neglect. His grandpa was out here, safe and sound, while he was harassed and violated and _raped_ in the bathroom. He looks away and reaches up to hold his elbows, protectively crossing his arms in front of himself.

 

“Let’s just go home, okay…” he says quietly when he knows Rick is done talking. “I’m callin’ it, the adventure’s over.” He doesn’t look at his grandpa, hoping that Rick would just agree and gloat in his victory on the bet and that they could just go home so he could start to recover from his trauma in the bathroom.

 

Rick frowns, turning to get a better look at his grandson. He really doesn’t look good. And didn’t he say he was only going to take a leak? He was gone for nearly an hour. Even if he had to take a shit, it wouldn’t have taken _this_ long. “W-We can’t leave now Morty,” he argues with a small frown before turning and reveling at his mound of won cash. “I’m on fire!”

 

“Look, I wanna leave now.” Morty’s voice seems to get smaller and weaker with each sentence he tries to squeak out. “You win the bet, okay?” He quickly turns towards his grandpa and pats around his lab coat, obviously looking for something. “Just gimme the portal gun, and let’s go, _PLEASE_ …”

 

Unbeknownst to Morty, Mr. Jellybean saunters towards the bathrooms, wanting to check on his prey one last time. If Morty is still there, he will have another round with him. Rick watches suspiciously as the bean looks around himself quickly to make sure he isn’t being followed, and Rick notices the small, Morty-sized, fist-shaped bruise on his cheek before he slips into the bathroom, only to reappear seconds later, a somewhat disappointed expression on his face as he walks away.

 

As Morty tries to find the portal gun somewhere in Rick’s myriad of lab coat pockets, Rick watches the jellybean with sudden understanding, anger building up and burning in his eyes as his look turns into a glare. He hears a soft sniffle, and looks down in time to hear Morty murmur, “Please, I just…wanna…” Morty abandons his search for the gun and instead leans against Rick, hugging him ever so slightly, as tears spill over his cheeks. “…go home…” Soft sniffles and suppressed crying makes Rick’s heart turn soft in compassion. His grandson needs help. He needs support and love, and he needs it now. Something awful happened with that blue bean, he can tell. It hurt Morty. And by the way he’s acting, it was bad.

 

After another second of letting Morty sniffle into his chest, Rick reaches up and holds Morty’s arms, leaning back so he can see his grandson’s splotchy face. Morty rubs the tears from his cheeks with his arm, and keeps his gaze down, still sniffling. Normally, Rick would have gloated about winning, but he knows this is serious. Morty’s well-being is more important than him winning some stupid bet. Besides, he enjoyed the adventure the whole time, and was just giving Morty a hard time about it. But now isn’t the time to gloat or harass him anymore. He needs to get him home safely, and he needs to make sure that this adventure doesn’t end on such a sour note. His expression softens and he tries a supportive smile, using a soft tone with his upset grandson.

 

“Listen, Morty. I just won a bunch of shmeckles. Why don’t we use twenty-five of them to pay Slippery Stair here for a ride back to the village, and then we’ll give the rest of the shmeckles to the villagers. Huh?” He smiles reassuringly, keeping a secure hold on Morty’s shaking arms. Morty is able to raise his gaze up to his grandpa and feels a small sense of warmth and protection. He feels safe. Finally.

 

“R-Really?” He asks, a small smile perking at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Sure Morty,” Rick says gently. “You know, a _good_ adventure needs a good ending.” Morty smiles at the compliment, and agrees to let Slippery Stair take them back down the steps. He holds back a hiss of pain as he straddles the saddle, and holds on as the slug quickly takes them down, step by step.

 

When they finally reach the bottom and Rick pays the slug for the ride, Morty has to hide his pained wince as he climbs off the saddle and tries to stand. He’s shaky still, and on-edge. Paranoid, as though Mr. Jellybean were to come out of anywhere at any second.

 

Rick nudges Morty’s shoulder with the bag of leftover shmeckles and Morty smiles, taking it and handing it to one of the villagers, who cheers and exclaims happily, “Thank you, kind sir! Our village is saved! You are both true heroes!” At the euphoric praise, Morty’s smile widens and he grins around the crowd of villagers, relishing in the fact that he was indeed able to save them all. Two young women approach him and kiss him on the cheeks to express their thanks, and Morty flushes, giggling stupidly.

 

“Good job, Morty,” Rick praises, smiling. “You- It looks like you…won the bet!”

 

“Thanks Rick,” Morty begins, but his smile fades. “But…I don’t know if I should. You know, you were right about the universe. It’s a crazy and chaotic place…”

 

Rick smirks. “Well, you know, maybe that’s why it could use a little cleaning up-UURP, every now and then, you know?” He kneels in front of his grandson and winks. “This one’s wrapped up, neat and clean because we did it, ‘Morty-style’.” He raises a brow and smiles in sincerity.

 

“Oh! Heroes!” A beaming villager rushes up to them and speaks quickly, pointing behind him. “We would like to introduce you to our beloved king, so that he may thank you personally!” Morty’s eye twitches and he stiffens. It’s none other than Mr. Jellybean.

 

“UHH NO, i-i-i-it’s cool!” He turns quickly and grips Rick’s lapels in tight fists, desperate eyes locking onto his and demanding quickly, “Portal.” For half a second, Morty’s fearful gaze flicks over his shoulder and he urges, “Hurry.” Rick’s shock doesn’t stop him from acting immediately. He turns and shoots a green portal, which they instantly jump through.

 

Rick isn’t stupid. He knows what happened. Not all the exact details, but he can use context clues. And he knows that the bean hurt Morty. Probably molested him or worse. But no one messes with his grandson, king or not.

 

Before the portal closes behind them, Rick sticks a ray gun through the swirling vortex, aims, and shoots quickly, causing the pedophile to explode in a mass of bright green, gooey, jellybean guts. Rick then retreats his hand back into the portal without listening to the aftermath of his actions, and he and Morty are gone.

 


End file.
